Harry Potter and the Obscurial
by The Hope Lions
Summary: FANTASTIC BEASTS SPOILERS! What if the Dursleys had been a bit more devoted to beating the magic out of Harry? Newt Scamander and Albus Dumbledore both have long and dark histories, but there is one thing they both know. They would do anything and fight anyone to prevent the death of one final Obscurial.
1. Chapter 1

Well, it has now been three days, and no one else has published this, so I guess I must. Now, since I'm impatient, this isn't like my normal stories. I don't have anything written before hand and will *not* be able to do my usual daily updates. I do intend to update frequently, however, so fear not.

Please enjoy, because we all know we've been thinking is since seeing Fantastic Beasts

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I wish I did more than life itself, but I do not.

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Chapter 1

Mr. and Mrs. Dursley of number 4 Privet Drive were proud to say they were perfectly normal thank-you-very-much. They were the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they simply did not hold with such things.

Which is why it was most peculiar when their house was torn apart by an apparent gas explosion.

The couple and their young son, Dudley, were not home when it occurred, but much to their neighbor's surprise their nephew, a young boy named Harry Potter, was. Now, if any of the neighbors knew the truth about number 4 Privet Drive, they would not have been so surprised that Harry was home. They did not, however, have a clue what occurred behind the doors of the Dursley home. In fact, the neighbors had been under the impression that Harry had died a number of years before, so they were quite surprised when the young boy just sat there in the middle of the rubble.

Harry seemed confused, but did not move from the destroyed house, as most ten-year-old boys would do. The neighbors flocked around, all staring and pointing at the boy, but they too did not make a move towards him. The inhabitants of Privet Drive were not all quite so terrible as the Dursley's, but they were also made of the same kind of stuff as Petunia and Vernon. Really the only difference between the couple of number 4 and number 6 Privet Drive was that one family had never considered the possibility of magic existing, and the other was forced to recognize its existence every day.

Harry Potter had been left on his Aunt and Uncle's doorstep after his magical parents were brutally murdered by the most feared wizard of the age. Neither Dursley particularly wanted the boy or his oddity but they never felt as if they really had a choice in the matter. In the end the couple had decided to keep the boy, but squash the unnatural magic out of him.

They had not succeeded in doing so through mild punishments or lies, so when the boy ended up on the rooftop of his school, the Dursleys had enough. They faked the boy's death, an endeavor that was far easier than it should have been, and locked him up in their house. That had been two years before, and, as far as the Dursley's were concerned, Harry had been cured of his magical affliction. It hardly ever seemed to burst out of him with wild rage as it once had. No, Harry was nearing a normal boy, with regards to magic at least. He hardly spoke, nor did he seem to even be capable of speaking anymore, but at least he did not do magic.

And Harry did not do magic. Harry did not even know magic existed. He knew he was different. He knew he was a freak who had to leave school before he hurt someone. He knew he was bad. He did not, however, know that he was a wizard.

Nor did any of the police officers approaching the boy, which, in retrospect, was a very, very bad thing. "Young man," one of the officers called out, stepping over what had once been the doorstep Harry was left on. "Are you hurt?"

To the officer it seemed like a ridiculous question. All the witnesses said the boy had been in the house when it was destroyed. Surely the boy had to be injured. Few could come through such a disaster with their lives, never mind without a scratch.

But the closer the officer got to the boy the more he realized the boy was unharmed. His first thought was that the boy must have wandered into the house right after it was destroyed, because any other possibility would have been simply illogical. "Hey kid, how did you end up here?"

Harry looked up at the officer who spoke to him, the brightness of the sun bothering him after so many years inside. "I live here sir."

Another officer came running up to the pair, and whispered something in his partner's ear. Harry could not hear what was said, but it caused the first officer to kneel down before Harry and speak with softer tones. "Are you Harry, Harry Potter?"

Harry most definitely knew that was his name, though he'd been called 'freak' more often over the past few years. Still, he wasn't about to forget his own name. "Yes sir."

The officer's eyes softened, though Harry wasn't sure why the man was so incredibly confused. "Have you ever ridden in a police car before, Harry?"

The boy jumped to his feet, his heart pounding against his chest in terror. As his heart rate rose, so did the creature inside Harry. It did not have a chance to burst out, however, because the officer, realizing his words, grabbed Harry's shoulder to sooth him. "You're not in trouble Harry, but there has been some confusion, and I need you to come with me so we can figure out what has happened, okay?"

"Okay," Harry answered. He didn't really want to stay at Privet Drive. He'd always hated the place, and he was terrified of what he'd seen right before its destruction. If that thing came back… Harry was frightened just thinking of the possibility. "Are my Aunt and Uncle going to be there?"

The police officer looked at Harry, reaching out to offer his hand as he did so. "We need to find them and ask them a few questions, but I don't think you're going to have to see them if you don't want to. Do you want to?" Harry shook his head so fast the officer worried the boy would hurt himself. "Harry, can you tell me why you don't want to see your Aunt and Uncle?"

Harry hesitated for a moment, but when he looked back upon the ruins of his house, he figured it could not hurt to tell the truth. Uncle Vernon had always punished him for lying, even if he was telling the truth, but perhaps this police officer would be better. "Uncle Vernon is going to blame me for what happened to the house. He's going to say I did it."

The police officer laughed, probably thinking that the idea of a little boy like Harry blowing up his house so expertly was a ridiculous notion. "Why would he think that? Did you?"

Harry again shook his head, biting his lip while he did so. He wondered if he should tell his next truth. Usually it was the weird truths that Uncle Vernon punished him for. But this officer was obviously not Uncle Vernon, and so Harry decided to tell him the truth. "Of course not, sir. It was the darkness! I was scared because Uncle Vernon had locked me in my cupboard again, and then the darkness was all around me, and the house was gone!"

The police officer nodded his head, and Harry could tell his story had not been believed. At least the officer didn't punish Harry for lying though. No, he just led Harry to the back of his car and made sure the boy was truly unhurt. (He was, more proof that the boy's story was just a lie to hide the far more gruesome truth.)

"So what do you think, did the kid do it?" the officer's partner asked.

The officer gave his partner a look that clearly said 'are-you-kidding-me'. "No way. I think the Aunt and Uncle were trying to do away with the kid for real, and he was just lucky enough to get out of the house before it blew."

"People are really crazy, aren't they?" the partner asked, climbing in the car and introducing himself to Harry.

The original officer stood for a moment more looking at the destroyed house."Yeah, some people are really nuts," he decided before climbing in the car and driving off.

If either officer had stuck around for a moment longer, they might have known for sure just how odd people could be. A few moments after they drove off, a 'pop' sounded from across the street from the ruins of number 4. No one noticed the man, which was quite good considering his peculiarity. Few people had such long silver hair, and those who did generally did not tend to wear long flowing robes.

But this man, of a different kind of peculiarity from what the officers spoke of, did dress in such a fashion. If he'd had a chance to plan ahead he might have changed into muggle clothes, but this man, Albus Dumbledore had been doing paperwork in his office when one of the wards he'd placed around Number 4 broke. He'd rushed to the scene, but only after checking the Hogwarts register to ensure that Harry Potter's name was still there.

That register was the reason he'd never believed the tales of Harry Potter's death. Albus Dumbledore had only ever cared that Harry Potter was safe, and the registered had always assured him of this fact.

Or at least he'd thought it had. Looking upon the ruins of Number 4, however, Albus Dumbledore came to the conclusion that he was a terrible, terrible fool to assume that Harry Potter was safe because he was alive. He'd learned long ago that there was another kind of ill that could befall surrounding wizarding children surrounded by muggles.

And if such a fate had fallen upon Harry Potter, then Albus Dumbledore knew he could never forgive himself. Summoning his patronus, he spoke to the phoenix with a small tremble in his voice, "Please inform Mr. Scamander that I desperately need his help. I think the Boy-Who-Lived is an obscurial."


	2. Chapter 2

By God I never imagined such a positive reaction to this fic. To thank you all I have chapter two here. Hope it lives up to your expectations! Thank you so much to all who have followed, favorited, or reviewed! I doubt I'll be able to do daily updates, but this update is for all you wonderful people.

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Chapter 2

It had been years since Albus Dumbledore and Newt Scamander had last met, and yet neither felt any true reason for a prolonged re-acquaintance. Mr. Scamander had been in Argentina when he received the Headmaster's summons, but he had made it to the Hog's Head in by dinner-time.

Albus was not particularly fond of using his brother's inn as a meeting place. For one the two brothers were very fond of pretending they were not, in fact, brothers at all. Mostly, however, his discomfort sprung from the large portrait of Ariana Dumbledore that hung in the inn. Whenever she saw Dumbledore she's smile at her brother, and a little piece of him broke further.

So Albus had only been into his brother's inn on occasions when he was too sentimental for his own good. Perhaps that was why Albus chose that as the place for Newt to meet him. Or perhaps he just hoped the portrait of Ariana would focus their attention to the important matter at hand.

Either way Albus's presence in the pub was enough to drive his brother to close the place and take off upstairs. Aberforth did not even attempt to drive his brother away, however. Instead the younger brother just hid, not wanting to know why his brother was there, though, in his heart, he already did know the reason.

With the Inn empty Dumbledore set to getting himself a drink, and soon enough his once-student and long time friend had arrived. "My dear boy, you look remarkably well for your age."

Newt blushed fully aware that he looked half the age he actually was. Of course wizards typically aged differently; Dumbledore was 110 but did not look older than 80. Newt Scamander, however, seemed to be aging particularly slow, even for a wizard. "Tina thinks that I've gained the favor of some creature who has seen fit to extend my life. I do hope she's incorrect. A long life is not necessarily a good one."

Even as a young boy Newt Scamander had had a certain wisdom that enticed Dumbledore. Surely Newt was odd, and vastly naïve, but his love for beasts had made him more in-tune with the world, and its truths. "Funny you should say such a thing. I spoke with Mister Flamel the other day about a very similar topic. Alas, we do not have time to discuss it. I have called for your help because save Grindewald himself, you know more about obscurial than any other living person."

Newt did not deny it. He'd been studying Obscurial since 1926, and was more than devoted to the subject. Tina often referred to it as his Achilles heel, his undying obsession, but even she never tried to stop his work. After all, she's seen the damage an obscurus did to both society and the child. "Funny you should mention him as I visited our mutual…friend only a few weeks ago. He said you hadn't been to visit him in a decade. Tell me Albus, when was the last time you spoke to Grindewald?"

"November 2nd, 1981."

At the confirmation of his suspicion, Newt perked up, looking much like the young man who'd first met, and temporarily defeated, Gellert Grindewald. He was, in reality, ninety-three years old, but the prospect of another chance, even if it would mean such an important loss, gave him hope. He would not fail again. Not as he had in Sudan or New York or London or any of the other places he'd encountered obscurial. He would not fail Harry Potter. "Let's go find Mr. Potter, shall we?"

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Harry Potter had dreamt of being a police officer many times. Of course, in his dreams, being a police officer was far more interesting than what it appeared to be. Ever since they arrived at the precinct, the officer who'd first approached him, Detective Gravv, had been in a conference room talking to person after person. Harry had been in a different room watched by Detective Gravv's partner, Detective Dewey. Now Detective Dewey was kind enough. He had brought Harry wonderful food, far better than the rations the Dursleys had been giving Harry for years. Detective Dewey had also brought Harry the puzzle of old New York City he was working on.

Harry had never done a puzzle before, but he decided it wasn't a particularly interesting task. After a little bit he'd realized that the pieces with a straight edge were the outer frame, and he'd quickly filled in the middle. It seemed like he was missing a piece however. No matter how hard Harry tried he could not figure out where the last piece had gone. In the long-run he knew it didn't really matter. Even without the window to the bakery shop Harry could make out the image, but it was the principle of it. Uncle Vernon had been saying for years that Harry was no good at anything. Harry had mentioned this when Detective Dewey told Harry he'd done a good job at figuring out the puzzle, and the Detective had promised Harry it wasn't true. It felt true though, especially when Harry came to the conclusion that he had somehow lost the last piece, therefore ruining the puzzle.

This realization spurred the darkness inside Harry, but it did not come bursting out. Perhaps it would have, but Detective Dewey looked up at Harry and offered the boy a smile. "I don't think I've ever managed to get through a puzzle without losing a piece either. Actually, I don't think I've ever managed to get this far into a puzzle. I'd be very bored if I was you."

"I'm used to being bored," Harry admitted simply. It was true. He spent most of his time in his cupboard, and there was very little to do in there. He'd long ago covered every inch of the walls with drawings, and his only company was the cupboard's resident spiders.

Detective Dewey came to sit across from Harry. They hadn't really had a good place to put the boy, but he didn't seem to mind the stark interrogation room. He looked pretty funny in it, however. The boy was tiny, and the rags he wore made him seem even more so. The idea of someone like Harry actually causing the kind of mayhem needed to land you in a cell, was slightly ridiculous. (To the Detective at least. Unfortunately, Harry was quite capable of causing such mayhem.)

"You know, I'm bored a lot too. I have to do lots of paperwork, and it's very boring, but I know I'm bored because I'm important," Detective Dewey explained to the boy.

A smile spread wide across Harry's face, reaching all the way up his forehead to wrinkle the lightning-bolt scar there. "I'm important too?"

"You are very important," Detective Dewey promised. As he said so, a knock rung on the door, and he rose to go see who it was. When he did so, he discovered he'd sat right on the missing piece of the puzzle, and handed it over to Harry. "And much better at puzzles than I'll ever be."

Harry was smiling at his wonderful work of art, and he did not notice for a minute that it was a new man and not one of the Detectives now standing with him. When Harry did notice a wave of fear washed over him, once again encouraging the darkness within him to rise.

Newt Scamander, however, had come prepared, and, when he saw that he truly had found Harry, he pulled a Bowtruckle named Woody out of his pocket. Harry saw the creature and his fear immediately left him. He seemed down-right surprised by the little green creature, but as Newt approached the boy, there was no sign of the obscurus rising to protect Harry.

"His name is Woody," Newt introduced, urging Woody to climb from his hand onto the table. Woody objected for a second, but quickly conceded. There were few things Newt couldn't get Woody to do. He'd been there when Woody was born, and the young Bowtruckle was a member of the family he'd had since he was a boy. There was an undeniable trust there, and so Woody didn't even bite Harry when the boy tried to grab him.

"Hi Woody," Harry spoke to the creature completely enamored. "My name is Harry. I've never seen something like you before. You're really cool."

Woody offered a smile that, despite his small lips, could easily be seen. "I think he likes you Mr. Potter," Newt told the boy, coaxing Woody back onto his hand.

"How do you know my name? All the detectives seem to, but you don't look like a detective to me."

Harry's observation was quite an astute one. While Newt had never been one to dress in robes-partially because he was married to an American, and partially because they were just too difficult to wear around creatures- he still didn't dress like a normal muggle (or a modern one at least). Of course, Newt himself was oblivious to the fact that people hadn't worn pocket watches in years. He was barely aware of what was going on in his own world, never mind the world of muggles.

"Well Harry, I'm not a detective," Newt answered simply putting Woody back in his pocket and pulling a puffskein out of the compartment in his case he's stored it. If there was one thing Newt had learned throughout his encounters with obscurial it was that they were still children. Keeping them busy and unafraid ensured the obscurus went unprovoked. Newts preferred method for keeping anyone occupied, of course, was by showing them the wonderful creatures he cared for.

"Here, why don't you hold this, but be careful," Newt warned the boy, meeting his startling green eyes with a (falsely) serious look. "You have to be very careful to not let his tongue get too close to his face. He'll lick the boogers right out of your nose!"

Harry made a face that reminded Newt a lot of his own grandson, Rolf. Rolf was a few years younger than Harry, but he had much the same reaction to puffskein tongues. Of course any normal young boy had such a reaction.

But it was interesting for Harry to because he wasn't supposed to be a normal young boy. Even when the obscurus was inside them, obscurial tended to be highly erratic and distrustful- much the way any abused child would be. Harry did not act like that. Certainly he'd been abused, the lack of flesh on him made that clear, but the boy seemed happy and care-free. His magic might be perverted, but his spirit was clearly not.

All the more reason for him to succeed in saving Harry. First, however, he needed to get Harry away from the muggles.

"Harry, I'm not a detective. I'm a wizard, just like you, and I can do magic. Want to see?"

The puffskein let out a shriek as Harry squeezed it tight. The boy stood quickly, dropping the creature on the ground, and moved as far away from Newt as he could. "Magic is evil! Only freaks like me do magic!"

Now that was more the reaction Newt had been expecting. At the mention of magic he'd felt a strange wind, and did not doubt that he would end up dead should he not find a way to calm Harry again. "Harry, magic is not evil. I know what your aunt and uncle have done to you, but they are the ones who are evil. They're the freaks. You and I, we're just different. Do you think Woody is evil? What about your puffskein? They're magical beasts; will you call them freaks too?"

Harry looked down at the little puffskein as it struggled along the floor. Carefully he picked it up and cradled it in his arm. The tender affection soothed both the boy and his obscurus, and the tension in the room dissipated.

"Harry, how would you feel if I took you to a place with all kinds of magical creatures? A place where you could see that magic isn't evil and where you would be safe?"

Harry offered no objections, and so Newt went over and grabbed the boy's shoulder. Harry flinched a little, but he did not run away. Instead he just held his puffskein tight as Newt prepared to apparate them both away.

The fates did not seem to be in their favor, however. Just as Newt was about to bring Harry someplace safer, the puffskein jumped from his hands. Harry pulled away from Newt to grab it, and there was no way for the older wizard to stop in time. He apparated without Harry, or without most of Harry. A small patch of Harry's skin had been splinched off, and the pain was almost unbearable for the boy. Newt apparated back immediately, prepared to heal the wound, but it was too late. The dark force within Harry had reacted to the pain and swirled around the police station. People screamed, tables were knocked over, windows broken, and then, all of a sudden, the obscurus, and its host, disappeared leaving Newt Scamander, once again, empty.

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AN: Please let me know if there are any mistakes so I can fix them. More explanation will be included in the next chapter, but I hope everything seems to make sense for now. Until next time!


	3. Chapter 3

Again I am simply astounded by the response this fic is getting, an hope this chapter does not disappoint. For those of you who are curious, I suspect this fic will be about 10,000 words long, though I have known to be 40,000 words off on occasion.

ENJOY!

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Chapter 3

Newt easily obliviated the muggle aurors and repaired the station. As far as any of them were concerned there had been no boy among the ruins of Number 4 Privet Drive, and that was undoubtedly for the best.

Newt Scamander could not forget, however, and he could not stop thinking. Sure it had been years since he'd met an obscurial, but he couldn't possibility be wrong about the level of…

Distracted by the thought, Newt opened his old case and stepped right inside. The expansion charm on the suitcase was practically infinite, and over the years his library was the bit that had expanded the most. And, while there was seemingly no organization to the journals and books, Newt easily summoned all of his own journals regarding encounters with obscurials.

The more he looked over them, the more he was confused. It was this confusion that Albus Dumbledore saw as soon as he tracked down Newt. "I've been looking for you. I take it you have not found Harry?"

"I found him," Newt admitted. He'd always been a particularly good finder; it came from studying magical creatures. "And then I lost him… Albus, there's something odd going on here."

Of course there was something odd going on. For one, to the vast majority of the world, any magic was 'something odd'. Even for wizards obscurials were considered peculiarities; many believed they didn't exist at all. Obviously Newt and Albus knew that was not the case, but the boy-who-lived being a destructive force of corrupted magic was still odd.

And that was not even what Newt was referring to. "Most obscurials act differently even when the obscurus is not in control. They're odd, reclusive, anxious. I've never been able to figure out if that's just a by-product of the abuse they've suffered, but I've long suspected it was unique to their condition. Many abused children exhibit no such traits, and yet all obscurial do. Mr. Potter isn't! He's friendly, and oddly trusting, and hopelessly compassionate."

"Surely you're not saying that is a bad thing?" Dumbledore replied, unsure where his former student was going. Surely it was good if Harry was trusting and kind? Having the boy be mentally, in addition to magically, unstable was not a good hope for the future. Nor was it good for Harry.

Luckily that was not what Newt meant. He just wasn't particularly good at expressing himself to other human beings. (Beasts on the other-hand always seemed to know what he was talking about). "No, no I think this can be a very good thing. He's not reached a point of emotional instability, and so his obscurial isn't as lethal. When he got frightened and disappeared from me he knocked over a few chairs, yes, but if he has anything near the magical power of his parents he should have destroyed the whole station and killed someone. The obscurus is undeniably there, but it's as if something else is in Harry trying to beat it back."

Dumbledore had a theory about that, but he had not intended to share it with Newt. As much as he trusted the man, Dumbledore was not about to share his theory with anyone.

Except Newt Scamander knew people. Perhaps he could not always interact with them appropriately, but at heart people were just like any other beast. You could learn to read their body language and figure out what they actually thought. "Albus. If there is anything you know about Harry, even if it's just a theory, I need to know. You wanted my knowledge on obscurials, but if there is something irregular about Mr. Potter, then I need to understand. The more information I have the more likely I am to find a way to save him."

"I understand, but I need to see Mr. Potter myself and perform a few diagnostic tests before I can know for sure. When we find him, if I discover my theory is correct, I will inform you."

It was certainly not the answer Newt wanted, but he did not imagine he'd be getting more out of Dumbledore. After all he'd known the man for decades and yet it was Grindewald who'd told Newt most of what he knew about the Hogwarts Headmaster. "I have a theory about where Harry's magic might have brought him," Newt admitted unable to hide his grin,

The Kowalski Bakery had been owned by three consecutive generations of the family and served both no-maj and wizard equally. A special spell placed on the door by (a very exasperated President of MACUSA) ensured that those with magic actually stepped into a completely different version of the bakery than those without. The theory behind the charm was overly complex and something none of the family which actually owned the bakery understood, but the magic did its job. Smack-dab in the middle of New York city there was one business where magical and non-magical people could enjoy the same goods without even knowing of the others existence.

(If anyone asked Newt's opinion on the subject, he would simply say that it was a good metaphor for the entire magical community of America, and then point out that the spell had been the thing to bring the most joy to his brother-in-law and so he could not criticize it.)

Jacob had died a number of years back, and the bakery was not the same without him. While his grandson, a recent Ilvermorny graduate, still ran the bakery, the Scamander side of the family tended to avoid it. Queenie said the place still brought her joy, even if it also brought bitter-sweet memories; Tina refused to ever enter the bakery again.

While Newt had not made such a vow, he hadn't really intended on coming back within the 20th century. Perhaps once more time had gone by it would be easier, but the bakery was the reason he and Jacob had met. The bakery had always meant something very important.

And it apparently had been given the chance to fulfill another important duty- the protection of Harry Potter. Newt spotted the boy looking at some niffler-bread, but managed to stop Dumbledore from just going right over and scaring the kid. Irregular or not, Harry was still an obscurial. He had yet to cause serious damage or loss of life, but that could still change.

"There are a lot of muggles in there," Newt pointed out the cars parked along the sidewalk in front of the bakery. "And undoubtedly some wizards as well. We've already met and I think I can get him to trust me."

Dumbledore clearly did not like just standing by while Newt interacted with Harry for the second time, but he also cared more about the boy's safety than his own pride. Newt, taking the silence as an answer, promptly disappeared into his suitcase and came out with nothing less than a real, live niffler- how typical.

His grand-nephew offered Newt a wave upon seeing him enter, but Newt quickly silenced the over-eager proprietor. They could catch up later. Newt just needed to get Harry to a place where there were less people for him to possibly harm. The boy looked up as Newt approached, and his shoulders tensed a bit. He neither ran nor turned into an uncontrollable being of pure magic, however, which just proved Newt's theory that he wasn't being held responsible for the accidental splinching. In fact, Harry didn't even seem to bear proof of that event. His shirt wasn't bloody or torn, and he didn't seem to be favoring the arm. Apparently his magic had healed him, interesting.

"That looks very tasty," Newt told the boy looking at the bread. "But not quite so interesting as this… Merlin's beard!" Newt had gone to pull the niffler he was hiding out from behind his back, but quickly discovered he was not actually holding a real niffler in his hands. He was holding one of the loafs of bread!

Newt spotted the culprit stuffing a ring in his fur. Without even thinking of the possible consequences, he dived after the creature causing a great disturbance when he knocked over one of the display tables. A couple of the wizards screamed, and the niffler scrambled further away, all the while grabbing whatever he could from the oblivious customers. "Come back here you thief," Newt grumbled pulling his wand. The niffler was faster, however, and had obviously learned from past mistakes. Despite not being really worth anything, nor shiny at all, the niffler grabbed Newt's wand and ran off with it.

The chaos only grew after this. People, realizing what the creature was, began checking for their belongings, and quickly discovered they were not, in fact, there. Soon enough everyone was grabbing for the little creature, but no one caught it. Nifflers were exceptionally athletic, and even had the ability to process information faster than humans. Newt knew they were darn near impossible to catch. (So why he hadn't worked on ensuring they didn't escape was lost on him.)

Meanwhile Albus Dumbledore had been distracted by the sight of two teenager muggles talking on the new mobile phones the rich were acquiring. When he turned around to check on how Newt was doing, he discovered the whole bakery in chaos. Quickly he rushed in hoping to get Harry out before the boy grew upset and his magic reacted.

But Harry wasn't upset at all. He was laughing hysterically and when Dumbledore approached Harry grabbed the old man's glasses to attract the little creature. Obediently it came, and Harry got a firm grip on the beast, much to the amazement of everyone around. "No harder than catching a mouse," Dumbledore heard Harry mutter.

Newt came over, plucked the beast from Harry's hands, and stuffed it back in his case. "So sorry if I gave you a fright Mr. Potter, but I daresay you did well with it."

"Why ever would I have been frightened?" Harry asked seemingly meaning it. He certainly didn't look frightened. Actually he looked thrilled. "That was the most wonderful thing I've ever seen! Can I have one?"

For a moment Dumbledore forgot that Harry was slowly dying, and instead imagined the boy coming to Hogwarts with a niffler. Now that would cause a lot of chaos. "No, I don't think that would be a good idea. Although…" Newt dug around his pockets before pulling out a puffskein. "I found this on the floor of the police station. Would you like it back?"

Harry nodded, grabbing the little creature. It crawled up Harry's neck, and promptly did use its tongue to eat the boy's boogers, which Harry seemed to think was as wonderful as the niffler. "I'm sorry sirs, but who are you? And do you know where I am? I seem to have forgotten how I got here."

Dumbledore gave Harry a warm smile, his eyes twinkling under the spectacles Harry had so expertly used as niffler-bait. "My name is Professor Albus Dumbledore, and this is Mr. Scamander. We're here to help you Harry. As for where you are… well actually you've somehow made it to New York City."

Harry's green eyes grew wide at the thought. "Professor, I think I certainly need your help if I've somehow made it all the way to America. Does this have something to do with the magic you mentioned earlier Mr. Scamander?"

"Yes Mr. Potter, it does. Now, how would you feel about talking a little trip inside my suitcase to see real versions of all the creatures that were models for these pastries?"

"Inside your suitcase sir?" Harry asked, which, considering his non-magical upbringing, was probably the most sensible thing he could have done. "Is that possible?"

Newt could not help but smile at the boy's innocence. Perhaps inside he was a raging distortion of magic, but he was also just a young boy. "I promised you magic wasn't evil, didn't I? Let me show you just where you can find all our fantastic beasts."


	4. Chapter 4

In case you haven't noticed my inability to use the right dialect, I am American. And this thanksgiving I am thankful for the absolutely flabbergasting response I've gotten to this fic. 465 people read the last chapter. I have over a hundred followers and 55 reviews in three chapters. It's amazing. Thank you all so much. I hope you enjoy.

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Chapter 4

No one had ever entered Newt Scamander's case and not been amazed. Even those people who had grown up around magic and were traditionally unimpressed by its abilities, always discovered a new world when entering the magical case. Every ecosystem of the world, and probably every beast, existed within the case in (relative) unity. Of course Newt was aware that some of his creatures ate the others. It bothered him a bit, always had, but providing the beasts with an environment like their own also meant providing them with prey. Of course there were a few creatures Newt placed special protection around-either due to them being endangered or one of his personal favorites- but in general he tried to let beasts be beasts, even if it hurt him to do so.

Still none of the beasts had to fear the world's most vicious monster-humankind, and so they were quite content with their lives. For Newt this not only made them easier to study, but more pleasant to be around. As much as he had to study the beasts so others could understand them, there was still a part of him that just wanted to love and being around his beasts.

Children seemed to be the ones who could appreciate that desire the most. Harry's eyes darted from one creature to the next, his mouth hanging slack at the sights. Even Newt sometimes forgot how wonderful his little world was, but seeing the joy in Harry's eyes reminded him of when he'd first started out. Perhaps Harry would make a good magizoologist someday.

"It's bigger on the inside than on the outside," Harry noted with a wry grin. "Is that because of magic?"

Newt nodded, "Yes. There is an undetectable expansion charm on the suitcase. You could fit the entire population of Hogwarts in here and not even fill a room."

"What's Hogwarts?" Harry asked before quickly getting distracted and running over to the tree where Newt's colony of bowtruckles lived. "Hello. I'm sorry if this rude, but which one of you in Woody?"

Dumbledore laughed as he and Newt approached the boy. The whole colony of bowtruckles made little noises upon spotting Newt, and Woody, who'd actually still been in Newt's pocket, climbed out and back onto the tree.

"Oh, I guess you're Woody," Harry realized offering his finger to shake the bowtruckles. (Well, Woody didn't really have a hand, but it was enough of an arm for Harry to shake anyways.) "Sorry, you all look very similar."

"They're all related," Newt explained reaching down to pick up the largest bowtruckle. The bowtruckle hesitated for a moment, blowing Newt a raspberry, but then happily climbed on the wizard's finger. "You know no one has ever really studied bowtruckles before, but everyone assumed they didn't live very long. Do you want to know a secret Harry?" He nodded frantically. "This is Picket. He was born in 1925. He's the founder of this little family and a good friend of mine."

Harry waved at the bowtruckle as Dumbledore came closer to the pair. "As for what Hogwarts is, it's a school for witches and wizards, one of which I am the headmaster. Your parents went there you know."

Harry's green eyes grew wide, "My parents had magic?" Dumbledore nodded. "Wow… Do I get to go to Hogwarts? Mr. Scamander said I had magic, and that that didn't make me a freak, so do I get to go?"

"Yes, my boy, next year you'll be old enough to go," Dumbledore told the child his eyes glistening over his half-moon spectacles. It was only when Harry turned away to go look at a different beast that the twinkle disappeared. There was still the distinct possibility that Harry would not live long enough to be attending Hogwarts.

For Dumbledore the young boy was quite difficult to keep up with, but Newt managed it with ease. The beast which had extended his life seemed to want him nimble enough to play their games, and that befitted Newt well. "Oh, I see you've found my Jarvey."

"Dudley bought a ferret once," Harry commented staring at the beast which, at first glance, looked like a white, overgrown, ferret. "His was named Dragon however. Hello Jarvey, I'm Harry."

"Jarvey isn't my name, dumbass!"

Harry jumped back when the 'ferret' spoke. Newt laughed a bit before giving the Jarvey a harsh look. As soft as he might be with some of the creatures, he was also quite good at being stern. "What have I told you about being rude? Go! Go! Find a gnome. God knows they're reproducing faster than I can release them."

The Jarvey dug a hole in the ground and scampered away, leaving Harry more than a bit surprised. "Mr. Scamander, are you aware that your ferret can talk?"

Harry was a really, really cute kid. "Yes Mr. Potter, I did know that. Granted he's not actually a ferret. Jarvey isn't his name, it's his species. They're like ferrets except magical and with the ability to talk. They only ever say rude things however, something I've never been able to explain."

"Oh," Harry said deciding that magic obviously lent itself towards many things that Aunt Petunia would have called 'unnatural.' Harry just thought they were cool. "You can call me Harry is you want Mr. Scamander."

He smiled, "Very well Harry, but only if you call me Newt. I've never been particularly formal."

Harry had never been particularly formal either, and so he was pleased to find a grown-up who was the same way. "Do you have any talking dogs as well? I've always wanted to ask a dog why they chase their own tail."

"No," Newt admitted. As far as he knew the closest thing wizards had to talking dogs were werewolves, or perhaps a dog animagus. "But I'm glad you're enjoying yourself. Aren't beasts wonderful?"

Harry nodded. "Oh yes Mr. Sca… Newt. And I like it in here because I don't think the dark mist is going to be able to find its way in."

All the joy Newt had been enjoying from seeing Harry's amazement disappeared upon remembering just why he was showing the Boy-Who-Lived his case full of wondrous beasts.

"Why don't you go check out some of Mr. Scamander's other creatures," Dumbledore, who'd caught up to the youngsters in time to hear Harry's last comments, suggested. Harry did so, and the two adults were left alone. "Harry seems unaware that the obscurus isn't just chasing him but a part of him."

Newt nodded, and was about to ask if Dumbledore was ready to stop being secretive when he noticed which beast Harry's attention had been attracted to and was forced to run over.

Runespoors were not particularly dangerous (despite being a class four beast). Most non-magical animals had a magical counterpart distinguished only by their three heads, and the runespoor was one of those. The one Newt had was small, only six feet long, with the typical orange and black stripes that allowed other creatures to know it was venomous. Of course, only one of the heads was venomous, the right one, but it was that toxic venom that gave it such a high classification despite the fact that there wasn't a single documented case of a Runespoor harming a being. (In Newt's opinion the beast was simply discriminated against because it was snake-like, and no one trusted snakes.)

Except for Harry it seemed. Harry had gone right over to the beast and was talking to it intently. Or well, hissing to it. "Harry, take a step back won't you?" Newt urged running towards the boy. Harry jumped back, and seemed confused by Newt's concern. "Harry, can you speak with my Runespoor?"

"Of course, can't you? He's very chatty. Or well, the outer heads are. I think the middle one is too busy thinking to want to talk. Why is the left head so mean?"

Dumbledore was more than a little concerned to see Harry's little display of Parseltongue, but in true Scamander fashion Newt completely forgot that Parseltongue was generally the mark of a Dark Wizard and just wanted to know what the beast was saying. "Harry, can you ask the right head why it only serves to criticize the others. And by right I mean your left."

"Newt," Dumbledore criticized from behind, but the younger two wizards were far too interested in the Runespoor to pay any attention at all.

Harry hissed a little bit, which would have been properly terrifying to Newt if he wasn't about to make a huge discovery. The right head of the Runespoor hissed something in reply, (and probably not something nice from the look on Harry's face), before all three heads started hissing at each other and Harry just turned away from them.

"He says that without criticism nothing can achieve its best possible form. The other heads would just keep going on and on in the wrong direction and would ultimately fail," Harry translated seeming disappointed. Newt on the other hand was thrilled, and pulled a notebook from his pocket to jot the information down. Oh how the community would love this. "He might be kind of mean, but why do the other heads want to bite his head off for it? Literally!"

Oh to be young and unaware, "Well we'd all like to ignore it when someone says what we're doing is wrong, even if we know they're right. Admitting that you're wrong is sometimes the hardest thing to do." Newt looked over at Dumbledore. "Do you still have your puffskein? Why don't you go over to that grass over there and play with it. I need to speak to Professor Dumbledore for a minute."

Harry, who'd actually been so distracted that he'd forgotten about the cream-colored puff that was (still) trying to eat his boogers, eagerly went to busy himself in the little green beneath the bowtruckle tree. Content that he'd be safe enough over there, Newt went towards his former professor. "Albus, he's a Parseltongue? Please, you've had your time to run any diagnostic spells. Now tell me what I need to know to save him. You admitted you needed my help, so _let me help_."

Dumbledore sighed, but his former student was right. Harry needed Newt's help, and Newt could only help if he knew the truth. (And it was so obviously the truth. What had only been a theory before was now clear, especially when Albus noted that Harry had been more jittery, more like an obscurial, while talking to the snake. "I know you don't keep up with the news, but even you surely know that the night Voldemort disappeared it was because he tried to kill Harry.

"What most people don't know is that Voldemort had spent his entire life trying for immortality. Even when he was just a child he asked me if magic could make someone live forever. I told him no, but he kept looking, and the solution he came up with was horcruxes. Little is known about how a Horcrux is made, but it is well known that it requires the caster to split their soul through the act of murder. I have long believed that when Voldemort went to murder Harry Potter he did so with the intention of making a Horcrux from the boy's death.

"But there was other magic at work that night, and it was Voldemort, not Harry, who ended up destroyed. The preparation for making a Horcrux was already there, however, and I believe the process was completed upon Voldemort's death. A part of his soul split off and attached itself to Harry. I believe it is that piece of Voldemort's soul, of his magic, that has developed into an obscurus to protect its host. Harry's own magical core is fighting the darkness, which is why it has yet to be as destructive as Voldemort's magic would wish to be, but it will not be enough for long."

Newt blinked for a few seconds trying to comprehend Dumbledore's theory. It made sense, but it was certainly not the kind of thing he'd just come up with. Of course Dumbledore probably had a reason to consider the possibility, one that Newt would undoubtedly not be informed of. At least it explained the Parseltongue; Voldemort was a notorious Parselmouth. "Isn't this a good thing? Harry's magic fighting the obscurus has kept lots of people safe."

"It's the sheer power of an obscurus that destroys the child," Dumbledore reminded looking at Newt over his spectacles. "That force fighting Harry's own magic will undoubtedly serve to kill him faster. I do not know that we'll be able to find a way to destroy the obscurus in time."

Newt nodded, pacing a little bit before realizing what he'd been missing, "Albus we don't need to destroy the obscurus. We just need to destroy the Horcrux!"

"Yes, but how do we do that without killing Harry? For a Horcrux to be destroyed its vessel needs to be irrevocably damaged. Even stabbing Harry with basilisk venom and then using phoenix tears to heal him would not work because he wouldn't be destroyed."

Newt nodded, "But if we use…" He trailed off when he overlooked where Harry had been sitting and discovered the boy was gone. "Harry! Harry where are you?"

The sound of stampeding beasts caused Newt to look a little further to his left. Erumpents, hippogriffs, and even a few threstrals stormed out of one of Newt's more temperate environments, and, from where they were coming from, Newt could make out the clear signs of black smoke and sheer destruction- something had set the obscurus off, and if Dumbledore's predictions were correct, Harry would not be able to survive for much longer.

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AN: Now that we've read my little commentary on accepting criticism make sure to let me know if I missed any errors. I've already updated the other chapters to fix spelling mistakes pointed out to me, and will gladly do so again.


	5. Chapter 5

I am still amazed by the response to this fic. I wish it could be longer because I'm enjoying the popularity, but this is actually the end. I'd be curious to write a sequel to this, but I doubt I ever would. Anyways thank you so much for your wonderful response, and enjoy. Also if anyone is interested in a Secret Santa fic-exchange check my profile for more details.

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Chapter 5

Newt and Dumbledore chased after the obscurus, and discovered Harry standing in the middle of Newt's tundra ecosystem. He was back in human form, shaking visibly from the cold, but not moving back towards the warmer areas from which he'd come. The dark smoke of the obscurus fizzed around him, expanding and contracting as Harry's teeth chattered, but not back in control.

It was vying for control, however, and from how suddenly the obscurus was appearing Newt knew the bonds on the force within were breaking. Harry might be able to survive two more transformations, but no more.

Newt approached the boy slowly, stopping whenever the obscurus grew out towards him. He didn't want it to feel threatened and react, but he also needed to get close enough to Harry to calm the boy down. Something had set him off before, even if those somethings needed less-and-less severity with each outburst. "Harry, what's wrong?"

The boy looked up, tears streaming from his green eyes. He was shaking visibly, whether from the cold or the power within, and turned away from Newt and Dumbledore. "Stay away from me! I don't want to hurt you! I heard you, I heard what you said. The Darkness isn't after me, it is me! And it doesn't want you to kill it. I can't hold it back and it wants to kill you!"

Newt didn't move back, but he didn't come any closer either. Dumbledore joined them, his gray robes whipping around in the frigid wind. The wool of Newt's overcoat absorbed the snow, chilling him quickly, but he made no move towards warmth. He wasn't leaving the tundra until Harry did, one way or another. "Harry, you can fight it! I know how to kill it, all you have to do is fight it long enough for me to help you!"

"I can't," Harry hissed, dropping to the ground and holding his head. Newt reached towards him, but the force of the obscurus decided that he was definitely a threat and threw him a few meters away, right into a snow bank. When Newt looked up he saw Harry still on the ground, clenching his head as the darkness grew in strength. He let out a blood-curdling scream which echoed against the snow-covered mountains until it became an unbearable noise.

"ALBUS, GET BACK!" Newt called, his scream practically drowned out by the ferocious wind. The Professor either heard him or was wise enough to see what came next because he apparated over to Newt before the obscurus within Harry exploded.

The obscurus had, apparently, been holding back up to that point. It tripled in size and force as it burst forth from the small boy. Newt could hardly believe its power. Credence's obscurus had been the largest in recorded history reflecting not only his advanced age, but also his sheer power.

The obscurus in Harry was twice the size, and it was made from only a fraction of Voldemort's magic. Looking at it there was no wonder that Voldemort had gained so much power so quickly; his magic was in a class of its own. And for Harry to have beaten him as a baby… for Harry's own magic to have been fighting back against this force for so long… Well Newt was more than a little afraid of the boy himself.

"Harry, you must fight this," Dumbledore yelled using his wand to magnify his voice. The obscurus slowed for a second, which encouraged the Headmaster. Harry was still in there somewhere. Riddle's soul hadn't won yet. "Harry, you are stronger than this. He is controlled by fear. You are stronger than him because you face your fears and choose to love! You chose not to allow the darkness to consume you, and that is why you're better than him, and that is why you will win!"

Newt realized what Albus was saying and how true it was. Perhaps the obscurus wasn't made from Harry's magic, but it should have been. The way his Aunt and Uncle treated him should have turned Harry into an obscurus in his own right, but it hadn't. Harry had not let their hatred make him fear magic. Harry thought magic was wonderful, not something dark, and that was why the darkness of Voldemort had never destroyed him.

There was just too much brilliant hope in Harry for even the Dursleys to crush.

Another figure appeared in the darkness of the obscurus. At first it was just a flicker of silver, but soon Newt could make out two figures- a doe and a stag- fighting back against the obscurus.

"Is that a patronus?" Newt asked blinking to make sure he wasn't just seeing things. It was clearly a patronus, however. The silver of the deer was unmistakable, and their light fought against the obscurus with a devoted frenzy. They nipped at the smoke, and wherever the stag rammed its horns the obscurus seemed to shutter back into itself. The patronus were actually fighting the obscurus, and they were doing an effective job at it.

"Harry's magic, it must have developed a patronus to fight the invading Horcrux…" Newt muttered, trying to make sense of the literal fight between the light and dark he was witnessing.

Albus Dumbledore didn't look convinced. He stared at the patronus mouth hanging slightly open. In his eyes the last decade hadn't ever happened, and he was once again witnessing the perfect complementary natures of Lily and James Potter fighting, once more, for their son.

"Expecto Patronum!" Newt cast quickly realizing that if the patronus was working for Harry it might be a way for him to help. As the little silver bowtruckle passed by Dumbledore's eyes, he added his own phoenix to the mix.

The patronus were enough to overwhelm the obscurus. Its dark force tried attacking them one by one, but whenever it went after the soaring phoenix it received (surprisingly deep) scratches from the little bowtruckle. Finally the stag took a step back from the dark shadow and ran right through it, dissipating the mist and dropping the body of Harry onto the snow.

Newt and Dumbledore ran towards Harry, terrified of what they might find. When Newt touched him the boy was practically frozen solid, and it took him a few frenzied moments to find any sort of a heartbeat. "He's alive, but barely."

Dumbledore breathed a sigh of relief and quickly began administering a few warming spells. They weren't going to be enough, however, if the obscurus wasn't removed soon. The light magic of the patronus had only pushed it back inside Harry, and when it burst forth again he would probably burst with it.

"Levitate him and follow me," Newt ordered. Dumbledore was a bit shocked at being ordered to do anything- few dared order him- but Newt never had been normal. When he was hyperfocused on something no one was above his commands.

Dumbledore levitated Harry gently, and followed behind the Magizoologist. Newt was practically running through the case and was completely unaware of the fact that every single one of his creatures was terrified because of the obscurus. A few beasts Dumbledore was fairly sure weren't supposed to exist were fighting, and Newt didn't even seem to notice. Sighing to himself Dumbledore managed to stun the beasts, and then continued hurrying after Newt, Harry's unconscious body in tow.

Newt finally stopped in a part of the case which reminded Dumbledore of Africa. Newt was making some noises that made him sound completely insane, and Dumbledore set the unconscious Harry on the ground and did his best to make the boy comfortable. He didn't even know if Harry was alive enough to feel discomfort, but if he could, Albus wanted to ensure he felt safe. Everyone should die feeling safe.

"Newt, it's too late," Dumbledore admitted his hand pressed against Harry's feverish cheek. The boy was still alive, but barely so. Harry would not live long enough for them to find the solution that had been evading them for a hundred years.

"No," Newt answered a bright grin across his face. "No it isn't. I was trying to tell you before. We don't need to kill the obscurus. We just need to destroy the Horcrux. That I know how to do."

Dumbledore was still confused as by how they were supposed to do that without killing Harry anyways, but he did not get a chance to ask. Just as he was going to he was blindsided and knocked to the ground by a large beast unlike anything he'd ever seen before.

At first glance it looked like a large tawny owl, but its legs were long and muscular, similar to a gorilla. Its wings were heightened by sharp shoulder blades, and a small child could probably sit in the cavern between the appendages. The most surprising feature of the beast was its strong smell. When it got near Harry the odor was rancid enough to cause the boy to stir even if he did not awake.

"Have you published something recently that I have yet to read?" Dumbledore asked as the beast circled around them in a way that reminded him of a vulture.

The beast began to dive towards Dumbledore, and Newt hit it with a stinging hex. "No! What have I said about sucking souls at random? Come here!"

The beast let out a little hoot that sounded startlingly like a wailing baby, but went and settled beside Newt. Sitting down it was only the size of a child, but it was certainly more imposing then one. Especially considering what Newt had yelled at it for trying to do…

"Are you saying this creature is a form of dementors?" Dumbledore balked at the suggestion. It certainly didn't look like a dementors, nor did it seem to suck all the happiness out of the room, but if it could suck souls then it wasn't a good thing to be around.

"It's nothing like a dementors, not really," Newt defended reaching down to fluff the creature's feathered head. The creature shook his feathers at the contact, but seemed to relax when Newt's fingers hit the right spot. "Dementors are anti-beings. They don't age and they don't die. They're not really alive. This is a kikiyaon which I assure you is very mortal. I discovered him in West Africa last year. The locals have spoken about them for years, but no one ever believed they really existed. Despite their size they're quite good at hiding and very smart. I just have to remind him sometimes of what he's not supposed to do."

Yes, because sucking souls was wrong. "You've been hiding the existence of this creature for a year? Why? It's probably the discovery of the century."

"I've made the discovery of the century fourteen times now," Newt admitted with a shrug and the kikiyaon, in imitation, shrugged as well. "I really have no need for the credit. I simply do not want the Ministry to think that they have found a perfect replacement for dementors. They will either be killed or used for nefarious purposes. They are much better remaining unknown."

Dumbledore could not fault Newt for believing that the Ministry wouldn't snatch up the kikiyaon the moment they knew about the beasts. "And you plan on letting that beast near Harry? What is to guarantee it will suck out the right soul?"

"Well Kikiyaon seem to go for the most corrupted souls first," Newt admitted running a few fingers through his light hair. "But, ah, well there is no guarantee. I think he knows what I'm saying and will listen to me, but I cannot know for sure. Still it's our only option. We know Harry will die if we don't remove the Horcrux. He has a chance to live this way."

Dumbledore looked over at the boy. His breathing was growing shallower, and his skin seemed to be blistering from the strain of holding such dark magic in him. Harry only had a few moments to live. There was no time to come up with another plan. Either they tried it and Harry had a chance of surviving, or they tried nothing and just watched him die.

The old Headmaster nodded, and Newt turned to the creature. "Now I need you to listen to me. There are two souls in that boy, okay? I want you to find the one that is full of dark energy. I know you love absorbing dark energy, so take that soul and then leave all the others. Okay?" The creature, obviously, said nothing, but it nodded its head in a way remarkably similar to the headmaster. Newt was hesitant for a moment, but then Harry started to shake, and he pushed the creature forward knowing it could not get any worse.

The kikiyaon leaned over the boy and tilted its head. Suddenly it reached down and covered Harry's mouth with his beak. The boy flailed and shook trying to get the beast off, but Newt held Dumbledore back from separating them. As quickly as it began, the struggle stopped, and the kikiyaon let out a long hoot-like wail before flying off.

Newt and Dumbledore crouched down besides Harry trying to find his pulse. For a second there was none. All the heat seemed to leave Harry in a rush, and his face paled like death. "It was too late," Newt whispered bowing his head to hide the tears for a boy he'd just met.

Harry's green eyes flew open, and he sat right up. Newt and Dumbledore jumped back startled by his reemergence from the pits of death, "Newt? Professor Dumbledore? What happened? I feel… different."

"Harry my boy, I think you are free," Dumbledore answered helping the boy scramble to his feet. "Do you think you can walk? I would like to go ask your runespoor friend a few questions."

Newt was just as confused as Harry was when they made their way back towards the runespoor, but he made no comment. As far as he could tell everything had gone exactly as plan. Harry seemed to have some sort of soul given that he could converse and even retained his memory. That soul didn't appear to be Voldemort's as the obscurus seemed to have disappeared. All and all it seemed to have worked flawlessly.

Which he could hardly believe. After so many years it was impossible for him to believe that he'd actually found a way to save an obscurial, any obscurial. Even if the method wouldn't have worked for the others, seeing it work at all… Newt's heard felt like it had been hit with a weightless charm.

"Go on now," Dumbledore prompted when they arrived back at the runespoor. "Why don't you ask the middle head if it has had any good dreams lately?"

Harry moved over towards the runespoor, and Newt watched with interest as the boy spoke to the snake, "Hello. It's me again. Mr. Middle-Head? Have you had any good dreams lately?"

The runespoor hissed back, and Harry tilted his head in confusion. He tried asking the question once more, but when he still didn't understand the response he turned back to the adults with his head down. "I'm very sorry Professor Dumbledore, but I don't seem to be able to understand it anymore."

Dumbledore let out a sigh of relief, "Do not be sorry my boy, I did not think you would be able to. It seems the darkness inside of you had gone for good, something I think you shall be most grateful for going forward."

Harry nodded. As clearly tired as he still was, he seemed thrilled with the prospect of being free. "Oh. Okay. Newt, do you have any other animals with three heads?"

"I do," Newt admitted. "But I think you've had quite enough excitement for one day. Why don't you go back over to the bowtruckles and I'll be over in a minute."

Once Harry ran off, Newt turned to his own teacher. "You must be glad to know that after all these years an obscurial will finally live to attend Hogwarts."

He was, and he suspected he had a long overdue visit to make before he returned to Hogwarts. Perhaps between the two things he'd finally be able to find peace. "Yes. Though there is still the question of what will be done with young Harry. The wards protecting him at Privet Drive were destroyed with the house, and even if they weren't he cannot return to the Dursleys. I never imagined someone would treat their own family that way… He is old enough to know the truth. I will just have to find some family to take him until he goes to Hogwarts, though who I do not know."

"I'll take him," Newt decided suddenly. The words surprised him as much as they did Dumbledore, but once they were spoken aloud he realized how much he wanted to. "I might be almost a hundred but I don't feel it. Tina says whenever Rolf visits that she wishes we still had a little boy around. She will probably curse me and then be glad."

Dumbledore looked hesitant, but Newt turned towards where Harry was sitting and called, "Harry, how would you feel like joining my wife and me in Argentina?"

The boy grinned not a trace of darkness behind his jagged lightning-bolt scar. Perhaps his future was still full of excitement and danger, but for the moment all was well.


End file.
